


ain't no mountain high enough

by gilligankane



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 10:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: Johnny puffs his chest out, his body warmer falling back a little. He’s got a Paw Patrol shirt on, Marshall saying “I’m good!” and his firefighter hat on.The medic, Charity remembers.Marshall is the firefighter and the medic. He moves closer, the print on his shirt sticking to her trousers. “I’ve come to make you better.”





	ain't no mountain high enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegirl20](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirl20/gifts).



> This fulfills #9 (Don’t you ever do that again!) from the prompt list, but it also is dedicated to @thegirl20, who deserves it all.

_ #9 - “Don’t you ever do that again!” _

 

_ “Why Meghan Marckle and Prince Harry’s Future Daughter Won’t Have Titles _ ,” Charity reads aloud. She snorts. “I’ll happily take ‘em.” She closes the magazine and runs her finger over the glossy cover page: Prince Harry and Megan Marckle in all their black-and-white glory.

If Charity has to read one more article about Prince Harry and his new bride, she’s going to chuck up the small amount of breakfast she put down. She scowls at the trash mag - Chas had thrown it at her on her way through the living room - and drops it on the pile of all the other ones she’s skimmed through this morning. All boring, all poorly-written, all given to her to help with her assignment of ‘bed rest.’

_ Bed rest _ , she thinks bitterly.  _ Better death than this _ .

She sighs and shifts on the couch. She’s been down here since she woke up, legs up and stretched out onto the small table in front of the couch. She lifts one leg, the clunky brace around her ankle making her calf and thigh muscles stretch and strain.

Chas and Debbie had given up trying to entertain her, and she can’t blame them. Since she tripped yesterday outside of the Woolpack, stepping wrong a large stone, and spraining her ankle, she’s been boorish and snappy. Noah had taken off to school, Debbie went to see Sarah, Chas went on shift, Moses was at nursery, and Vanessa had work to do.

_ The boredom will surely kill me _ , she thinks.

The doctor at the hospital had given her a brace and told her to stay off it for a few days. If Vanessa hadn’t been hovering around her like a first time mum at nursery drop off, Charity could have gotten away with saying it was a twist and she was given a pass to get back on her feet. Instead, Vanessa had solemnly watched the nurse wrap Charity’s ankle, asking questions about pressure and elevation. She held Charity’s hand the whole time, the skin over her knuckles white with tension. She all but carried Charity to the car, hands fluttering nervously: buckling her in, adjusting her coat, skimming her hands along Charity’s face as if it was what she’d broken.

“Ness,” Charity finally breathed. “Give it a rest, would you? I’m knackered and-”

“Of course!” Vanessa said too brightly, the pitch of her voice too high. She winced slightly, giving Charity an embarrassed smile. “Come on, then. Home it is.”

She’d stayed the night, pushing away Charity’s hands every time they reached for her, citing Charity’s need for rest. In the morning when Charity woke, Vanessa had gone into the vet’s early in an effort to sneak out for a longer lunch, leaving Charity a note tucked under her teddy bear on the end table.

_ Call me _ , it said.

Charity had put on a light layer of makeup and video chatted her instead, hollering a ‘hiya’ to Pearl off-screen and grinning when Vanessa rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation.

“Little higher,” Vanessa had instructed her when Charity showed her the couch setup. “ _ Elevate _ , Charity.”

Charity threw another pillow on the small stack, swinging the camera around to look at it before she turned it back to her face, pursing her lips at the screen. “Better, Dr. Woodfield?”

“ _ Technically  _ I am a doctor,” Vanessa started.

“Technically nothing, babe. You handle cows and-” She narrowed her eyes when Vanessa’s lips twisted upward. “Not a word, lady. Or you’re sleeping with your pillows from now on.”

Vanessa lifted an eyebrow slowly. “Is that so?”

Charity snapped her mouth closed and glared through the tiny screen. “I just don’t want to wear this bloody brace around like some kind of invalid,” she finally said, her voice fading into a high whine. “I want to work.”

“You never want to work,” Vanessa said calmly.

“Well, I’d like the option to choose not to, wouldn’t I?” Charity huffed loudly, ignoring the small smirk on Vanessa’s face. “I’m going mad sitting here by myself.”

“So long as Pearl can handle the few appointments at lunch, I’ll be over to take your mind off things,” Vanessa promised.

“You can take this flamin’ brace  _ off _ ,” Charity said through her teeth, clenched tight enough for her jaw to ache. She exhaled a thin stream of air from her nose. “Though, I suppose your clothes coming off might be worth summat.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize you’d be this dramatic about a sprained ankle.”

“ _ Me _ ? Dramatic?” Charity barked something like a laugh. “The doctor is the dramatic one. I sprained an ankle, not broke my bloody leg off like a wishbone.”

“I asked Chas to bring you some mags and a cuppa,” Vanessa said, ignoring her. “And I asked Debbie to stop by and see you. Noah’ll be down in a few for school, so be nice, would you?” Vanessa paused. “Maybe you can give Ryan another call _ , _ ” she said gently.

Charity felt something in her chest tighten and she shook her head, the feeling fading. “I’ll read a bit, I think.” She paused, picking at a folded blanket on the cushion next to her. “Promise you’ll come by?”

“There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do,” Vanessa breathed out.

Charity wrinkled her nose. “We need to talk about your taste in music, babe.”

Vanessa put a hand over her chest, her mouth falling into a perfect o-shape. “What’s wrong with my taste in music?”

“It’s about as good as your taste in men, innit?” Charity teased. “Thank god you’ve got a refined palate when it comes to women, yeah?”

Someone shouts in the pub, pulling Charity out of her head. She blinks hard, trying to make sense of the noise, but there’s a second shout, something loud and sudden.

“Chas?” she shouts.

Charity leans forward, listening to the rumble of chairs being knocked over and a sharp sound of a glass smashing.

“Chas!” she tries again. No one answers back. “Marlon!” She sits up a little higher, her ankle protesting with a flash of pain that radiates up into her knee.

There’s another  _ thud _ , another chair hitting the ground. Someone yelps and Charity frowns, forehead knitting in confusion. She braces an arm against the couch, ready to lift herself up to see what’s going on outside that door, when it pushes open and slams against the wall behind it.

Johnny is standing inside the threshold, his cheeks flushed and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Hiya, mate,” Charity says, confusion laced through her words. She stands slowly, leaning heavily on her good ankle, and takes a tentative step towards him. Charity looks past Johnny, her frown deepening. “Where’s your mum?”

“ _ Johnny _ ,” Vanessa hisses, rounding the doorway and pulling up short behind Johnny. They’re in matching yellow body warmers and it should make Charity laugh, but it does something else to her stomach instead; twisting it and turning it and warming it until it puts a fond smile onto her face. “You  _ cannot _ just run off when you please, especially when I-” Vanessa stops short, taking in Charity leaning against the back of the couch. “Hey! You’re supposed to be elevating!”

“Heard the ruckus, thought an elephant was storming the building,” Charity defends. She folds her arms over her chest. “Should have known it was the Woodfields, coming back from the war.”

Johnny thrusts his hands forward, up into Charity’s line of sight. He has his Rubble soft toy gripped tightly in them. “Here,” he demands, his little voice high and authoritative.

Charity takes the soft toy slowly, wincing when her hand brushes over something warm and slimy. “Thank you?”

Johnny narrows his eyes at her. “Mummy says you’re a pain.”

Vanessa cheeks flush. “That’s  _ not _ what I said,” she mumbles. “I said you were  _ in _ pain.”

“Sure you did, babe,” Charity dismisses. “Bet you’ve probably said the other thing, too.”

“Sit,” Johnny demands, his tiny hands barely reaching her waist. He pushes hard and her ankle is weak; she sags back against the couch and Vanessa jumps forward, hands curling around her elbows to keep her steady.

“Johnny,” Vanessa scolds. “Pushing Charity is not nice.”

Johnny’s shoulders drop. “Sit, please,” he tries, looking at Vanessa.

Vanessa nods and Johnny smiles, turning back to Charity.

“Char’ty, sit,” Johnny commands again, giving her a small push.

Charity lets him nudge her around the couch, her face twisted in a frown as he pushes and pushes. He nods, finally satisfied that she’s doing what he wants. He reaches for her hands next, arranging them around Rubble until the soft toy is tucked into her lap tightly.

“Rubble’ll make your feet ready,” he tells her seriously, his mouth set in a fine line.

Charity looks up at Vanessa, eyes wide. “What’s he on about?”

Vanessa sighs, lifting her bag up and off her shoulder. “I told him you tripped over a rock-”

“A boulder,” Charity whispers loudly to Johnny. “The size of you and Moz put together.”

“And that you sprained your ankle,” Vanessa says over her.

“I nearly sawed it off,” Charity corrects, watching as Johnny leans in, mesmerized.

Vanessa rolls her eyes. “So now you have to stay off your feet for a bit.”

“The way a Princess is intended to be treated,” Charity says, winking at Johnny.

“And you’re miserable because of it,” Vanessa finishes.

Johnny puffs his chest out, his body warmer falling back a little. He’s got a Paw Patrol shirt on, Marshall saying “I’m good!” and his firefighter hat on.  _ The medic _ , Charity remembers.  _ Marshall is the firefighter and the medic _ . He moves closer, the print on his shirt sticking to her trousers. “I’ve come to make you better.”

“Have you?” Charity asks.

Johnny nods seriously. He lifts his finger, wagging it at her sternly. Charity has to fight off the laugh that builds in her chest. She’s seen this look before - the same pout of the lips, the same wrinkled forehead, and the same  _ up, down, up _ of a finger. He’s Vanessa’s twin in his body warmer and his dungarees, looking for the world like he’s going to give her a talking to.

“Don’t you  _ ever _ do that again,” he warns. “We ‘as worried  _ hurt _ -”

“Sick,” Vanessa says quickly.

“We ‘as worried  _ sick _ about you,” Johnny corrects. He stomps his little foot, barely making a sound against the carpet. “You’s got ta be  _ careful _ .”

“Okay,” Charity says slowly.

Johnny nods again, a look on his face like he’s proud of himself. He looks at the blanket and pulls it off the couch, lifting it as high as he can to drop it over Charity’s lap.

“And what do you think you’re doing, mate?” Charity asks, smiling.

Johnny pats a part of the blanket, trying to press it down over Charity’s lap. “We taking  _ care _ of you.” He looks over his shoulder at Vanessa and Charity follows his gaze, arching an eyebrow at her. “Right, mummy?”

“I think Charity might need some quiet,” Vanessa tries. “If she’s going to get better, she needs-”

“She needs  _ us _ ,” Johnny says fiercely, his small fist tightening in the blanket. Charity covers his hand without thinking, squeezing until the tension in his arm fades. She lets go, working her hand through his hair and scratches lightly behind his ear. He leans into her like Vanessa does, his eyes fluttering for a moment. He blinks heavily and then sways.

“Johnny,” Vanessa says gently, mouthing ‘ _ I’m sorry _ ’ to Charity. “We should let Charity get some rest, yeah? And maybe tomorrow, we can-”

“No,” Johnny says plainly. He climbs up onto the couch next to Charity, hanging off her shoulder, his chin a sharp point against her skin.

She still marvels in his easy affection.

He’s always looking for a snuggle, climbing up into her arms and settling on her hip. He winds his fingers into her hair and breathes into her neck, requesting bedtime stories or just to be awake for a moment longer. There’s something about his casual desire to always be near her that makes her stomach wobbly.

She knows he’s a sponge, soaking up everything Vanessa does and mimicking it. She knows he sees them like this often, curled up on the couch while he plays on the floor with some of the dinosaurs Charity bought him, or trading small touches at the table during tea. She knows he’s just doing what his mum does, but it doesn’t stop the bloom of fondness in the pit of her stomach.

“Johnny,” Vanessa says, a little sharper than before.

Charity waves her off, smiling softly. “I don’t know, babe.” She curls her arm around Johnny, holding him closer. “Best I’ve felt since they tied this ball and chain around my ankle. Reckon Dr. Johnny here can stay.”

“Charity,” Vanessa scolds. “You don’t need to always give in to him.”

“I give in to no one,” Charity argues. She feels her cheeks flush at Vanessa’s pointed look. “S’not really ‘givin’ in’ if I  _ want _ to, is it?”

Vanessa’s mouth twitches, but she shrugs. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” Charity fires back, an edge to her voice that sounds too loud in the quiet room.

Vanessa softens. “Then of course it isn’t,” she agrees. She reaches out, dusting a finger over Charity’s brow and down her cheek. “Are you sure you don’t mind ‘im being here?”

“I’d tell you if I did,” Charity says, poking her finger in the soft part of Johnny’s stomach.

Johnny giggles, squirming in her hold. “We stay?”

Vanessa sighs heavily. “We stay,” she echoes.

Johnny grins, victorious. “I’ve got ta take care my Char’ty.”

“Yours?” Vanessa repeats, shrugging out of her body warmer. She drapes it over a kitchen chair.

“ _ Mine _ ,” Johnny repeats. He tightens his grip on Charity’s shoulder.

Charity has belonged to plenty of people before; has been called  _ mine _ and treated like property until it’s what she felt like she was. But Johnny’s eyes are wide and clear and his smile is nearly bright enough to knock her over if she wasn’t sitting down, and being someone’s has never felt like  _ this _ .

Like she could be someone’s and still be herself. Like she wasn’t a belonging; that she  _ belonged _ .

“Yours, then,” Charity says softly. “And what do you plan to do with me, Dr. Johnny?”

He turns his hand over, pressing his wrist to her forehead. “Not hot,” he says, frowning. He looks at Vanessa. “She’s not hot. You said she ‘as but she don’t-”

Vanessa leans across the couch, touching Johnny’s arm briefly. Her cheeks are flaming red and Charity’s chest tightens at the knowledge that she knows exactly how far down that blush goes. “That’s alright,” she says tightly. “I’m sure she’s just fine. And what have I said about listening to me and Auntie Tracy talk?”

Johnny pushes out his bottom lip. “Not ta’.”

“Right,” Vanessa says, her smile thin.

Charity arches an eyebrow at Vanessa, grinning when her face flushes another shade darker.

Vanessa looks away. “I never-”

Johnny climbs down off the couch, standing still in the space between the table where Charity’s foot is propped up and the couch. He reaches out with a hand that he quickly drops back down to his side, eyes narrowed as he studies the brace wrapped tight around her ankle.

“It must look a right state,” Charity offers. She’d seen it before the doctor had wrapped it up - black and blue and swelling just below the bone. She knows the progression of bruises and it’ll be a nasty purple by tonight.

Johnny nods sharply, coming to some unspoken decision. He removes his body warmer carefully, leaving it on the floor near the kitchen table and comes back to her, touching the hem of her trouser. He tugs it back a little and Charity winces when she sees the two day stubble on her leg.

“Johnny,” Vanessa starts.

Johnny pauses, letting out a heavy sigh before he turns to Charity. “I look,” he demands. Vanessa reaches out and tugs on the hem of his shirt. Johnny sighs again. “I look?” he asks.

Charity swallows back the laugh building in her throat, feeling Vanessa’s hand drop to her thigh and tighten. “Go on, mate.”

Johnny smiles widely. “If you be nice while I look, I’ll give you a biscuit.”

Charity’s mouth falls open, eyes wide. “Vanessa, did your son just...“

“He did.” Vanessa claps a hand over her mouth. “He honestly and truly did.

“Cheeky little bugger,” Charity grumbles.

Johnny doesn’t hear her, engrossed in pulling her trouser leg back just enough to see the top of the brace. She can barely feel the weight of his fingers through the heavy material but she shivers anyway, wiggling the tips of her toes. She hisses, the pain of moving the muscles getting the best of her. Vanessa’s hand grips her thigh and a different shiver runs through her body, setting her on fire.

He pokes at the brace, making a stern face as he hums and taps his finger against his chin. “It’s broken,” he declares.

Charity snorts. “Is it now?”

Johnny nods seriously. “M’ sorry. We’ll have ta cut it off.”

“Cut it off,” Charity repeats.

Johnny gives her a sympathetic smiles. “Don’t worry. You’ll be up chasing rabbits in no time.” Then he looks to Vanessa. “Did I say it right?”

“Perfect,” Vanessa says, smiling.

“I’m sorry,” Charity says, scoffing. “Am I being talked about like a  _ dog _ ?”

“Tip is a gift,” Johnny recites. “Grandad Frank says ‘o.”

“Grandad Frank-”

“Is a smart man,” Vanessa finishes loudly.

Johnny shrugs. “He smells funny.”

Charity laughs, hard and sharp and unexpected. She tries to cover the laugh with a cough, her hand pressed against her teeth.

Vanessa claps her hands together. “Shall I make a brew, then?” 

“That sounds like heaven, babe,” Charity sighs. “I haven’t had a decent cuppa yet today.”

Vanessa frowns. “I told Chas to bring you one.”

“Tasted like dishwasher, yeah? I think she’s trying to poison me.” Charity shrugs, pursing her lips. “Can’t say I blame her, I suppose.”

Vanessa licks her bottom lip and Charity gets lost for a moment, her eyes locked on Vanessa’s mouth.

“-suppose I’ll make you another,” Vanessa finishes saying.

Charity blinks. “Sounds brilliant,” she says slowly.

Johnny’s eyes widen. “Wait!” he shouts. He climbs down off the couch, grabbing his body warmer off the floor and carefully working through the pockets.

“He forced his way back here, you know,” Vanessa says, leaning into Charity’s side.

“Did he?” Charity asks, her hand going to Vanessa’s back. She absently runs her fingers over the dip of Vanessa’s spine, following each small divot up to the base of her neck, kneading gently at the knot she finds there. This part is new, too; the need to be touching. If Johnny is easy affection, Vanessa is welcome tenderness. She leans into Charity’s touch like she doesn’t know where Charity’s hands have been.  _ No _ , Charity thinks.  _ Like she knows where they’ve been and she still wants them on her anyway. _ Charity craves it as often as Vanessa gives it and it has  _ never _ been this easy.

Vanessa makes it  _ easy _ .

“Kicked Marlon in the shin,” Vanessa continues. “I’ll owe him a night of babysitting for it, I reckon.”

“In the  _ shin _ ,” Charity repeats.

“Poor Marlon,” Vanessa sighs. “Heard me tell Johnny he wasn’t to come back here and bother you. He thought he’d be helping by trying to stop him and Johnny just pulled a leg back and kicked him, toe first. Had Marlon hopping around like a legless pirate.”

“Is that why it sounded like a bloody stampede out that?” Charity asks, snorting at the image of Marlon dancing around, tears in his eyes.

Vanessa shakes her head, letting out a heavy sigh. “No, that was Johnny trying to stop Paddy from chasing him around. Kept knocking chairs over. Paddy might’ve tripped over one.” She winces. “And then my dad made the mistake of sticking his neb in and ended up wearing his pint before the glass hit the floor.”

Charity laughs, her smile stretching across her face. “Well, you know my Johnny. Can’t keep him from me, can you?” Charity’s smiles fades quickly. “I didn’t mean… He’s not  _ mine _ , but I-”

“Charity,” Vanessa says softly, smoothing her hands over Charity’s knee, hot and steady. “It’s okay. You heard him.” Vanessa smiles crookedly. “Your his. Makes sense he’s yours, doesn’t it?”

Charity hesitates. Three out of her four kids don’t like her on any given day, but Johnny Woodfield thinks she’s hung the moon in the sky just for him. She doesn’t want him to learn what her three have learned, what Moses will learn - that she’s an imposter, a failure; that she’ll mess the two precious young boys up the way she messed about with Ryan, and with Debbie; the way she’s messing up with Noah. The magic will fade and Johnny will just become another person who can’t look her in the eyes, who can’t trust her when she says she loves him.

Vanessa sees the hesitation. She sees everything. Months ago, it made Charity build her walls higher. Now, it makes her grateful that she doesn’t have to explain every sigh and every smile. Vanessa just  _ knows _ .

“And if that’s too much, that’s okay,” Vanessa says softly. Her fingertip swirls over the fabric of Charity’s trousers, small and soothing circles. “He’s quite the handful.”

“Like his mother,” Charity mumbles, smiling to take the sting out of the words. She turns, pressing the bridge of her nose to the flat of Vanessa’s temple, breathing in the smell of her shampoo and the warmth that billows off her. “Happens I like ‘em both.”

“Do ya?” Vanessa whispers back.

“Unfortunately for them.” Charity presses her lips to Vanessa’s cheek. “Please tell me you’re staying the rest of the night.”

“Well, Pearl did-”

Charity scowls, baring her teeth. “Pearl can go-”

“Got tea!” Johnny shouts. He’s holding two crumpled tea bags in his fist, triumphant. He thrusts them in Vanessa’s direction. “Kettle!”

Vanessa pulls back, arms folding over her chest.

Johnny grins at her. “Kettle?”

Charity elbows Vanessa, tipping her head in Johnny’s direction. “Kettle?” she asks hopefully.

“Horrible,” Vanessa grumbles. She pokes Charity in the thigh. “You ‘n all.”

“Ta,” Johnny says brightly as Vanessa takes the tea bags out of his hand.

“Ta,” Charity echoes.

Johnny climbs into Vanessa’s vacated spot, pausing. He turns back to Vanessa. “Don’t f’get the eggs.”

Vanessa frowns, the middle of her forehead pinching together. “The… eggs?”

Johnny keeps pointing at his body warmer. Vanessa stares at it for a moment before stooping over, fishing through the pockets. Charity watches her eyes widen and she pulls her hand out of the fabric, cradling two eggs.

“Johnny, what is  _ this _ ?”

“Eggs,” Johnny says, smiling brightly. He pats Charity’s stomach. “For your Rubble.”

“My stomach,” Charity corrects gently. She shifts the soft toy in her lap to the corner of the couch, between the arm and her leg. Johnny drops happily into the vacated spot, his back against her chest.

“It rumbles,” Johnny says. He scrunches his face up, his lips pursed comically. “Rubble, rubble.”

“Rubble,” Charity repeats.

“It’s so ya don’t get sick. Like Tip, when Mummy gave him medicine.”

Charity’s eyes widen and she looks at Vanessa, at the teabags she’s putting into the mugs, the kettle starting to whistle. “Are you putting me under?”

Johnny just shushes her and sinking back against her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, mate,” Charity murmurs, her lips against the back of his head.

Johnny’s weight is warm and welcome, settling over her easily. She drapes her arms across his lap, grinning when he curls his fingers around her forearms. His breathing is soft and easy and she takes a minute to match him, inhaling the fresh smell of his hair and skin.

“I read ta ya?” he offers.

Charity eyes the stack of magazines, Prince Harry smiling winningly up at her. “Better get on with it, then. I’m in need of a good book recommendation.”

Johnny hops off her lap, picking a book out of the small stack that belongs to Moses, near the mantle. He studies the cover carefully, as if he’s picking the next best seller, and finally nods at it, trotting back to the couch and settling back into the space he left.

“ _ Chase Is On The Case _ ,” Charity reads.

“ _ I’m _ readin’,” Johnny says, annoyance tinting his words.

Charity holds up the hand not wrapped around Johnny’s waist, surrendering. “Go on, go on.”

Johnny flips to the first page. “A ship! It’s yellow.”

Charity peers over Johnny’s shoulder, frowning. There is a ship, but it’s a steel gray, at best.

Johnny turns a few pages. It’s Chase, Ryder, and Zuma looking at the ship in fear. “Chase had his purple best.”

“Vest,” Charity corrects gently.

“His purple best,” Johnny repeats.

_ No vest, then _ , Charity thinks. She nods to herself. “I think that’s blue, mate,” she says kindly, pointing at the blue police outfit Chase is wearing.

Johnny glares at her out of the side of his eye. “ _ I’m _ readin’,” he says slowly.

“Right you are,” Charity says quickly. She gives him a quick smile. “Go on, then.”

“Like I sayin’,” Johnny says pointedly. “The purple jumper was tired a’being laundered and wanted a break.”

Vanessa looks up from where she’s making a plate of eggs, frowning. “Is that what it says?” she asks.

Charity looks at the page, at the sentence typed across the bottom:  _ Chase is on the case! He will warn the ship. _

“Just about, innit?” Charity offers. “He’s got the colors, at least.”

Vanessa comes back over to the couch, putting their mugs down and peering over Johnny’s shoulder. “Doesn’t Chase wear blue?”

“Not in this story, he doesn’t,” Charity says pointedly, nodding towards the glare Johnny is giving them both. “Sorry, Dr. Johnny. This one is a bit mouthy.”

“Hey,” Vanessa protests softly.

Johnny pats her arm sympathetically. “I know.”

“Hey!” Vanessa shouts.

“Suppose we let her sit with us anyway?” Charity asks Johnny.

Johnny narrows his eyes, studying Vanessa. “Last chance,” he warns.

Vanessa snaps two fingers to her temple, saluting. “Understood.”

Johnny continues to stare at her for a long moment before he nods slowly.

Charity reaches for Vanessa’s hand, their palms scratching together as she laces their fingers, one over the other. She feels Vanessa squeeze softly, each soft bit of pressure spelling out a phrase:  _ I’m here. We’re here. You are ours and we are going to be yours _ .

“Well,” Charity says, her voice thick with the tears she blinks back. “Shall we get on with the story? I’m curious about this boat.”

“There’s no boat,” Johnny says definitively. “It’s a rocketship.”

“I should have known,” Charity laments. She slides down the couch slightly, slouching, and leans her head onto Vanessa’s shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed. “Boats are naff. Rocketships are much cooler.”

“A purple rocketship!” Johnny shouts.

“A purple rocketship,” Charity repeats.

Johnny grins widely. “With dinosaurs!”

“Of course,” Charity says dryly. “You can’t have a rocketship without dinosaurs. That’s not a proper rocketship.”

Johnny hums happily and settles back against her, his hair tickling her cheek. Vanessa’s hand tightens in her own and Charity can feel something warm slither through her, lighting every nerve ending. She falls asleep, ankle forgotten, in between Vanessa and Johnny as they go about proper techniques of cutting a dinosaurs toenails.

_ Bed rest might not be so bad,  _ is her last thought.  _ Not so bad at all. _


End file.
